


Passing Lights

by WayFish



Category: House of Cards (US TV)
Genre: Car Accident, Cycling, M/M, Mentions of Violence, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, meet cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-28
Updated: 2014-08-28
Packaged: 2018-02-15 04:53:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2216520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WayFish/pseuds/WayFish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Gavin figured that he should probably be insulted, that even post coitus, someone would rather cuddle with Cashew than with him."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Passing Lights

**Author's Note:**

> That bike messenger was hot. This is probably stupid. Whatever. Enjoy.

Gavin came back from the bathroom to find him wearing just his boxers, sprawled across the foot of the bed.

And Cashew, she was huddled on his broad dark chest, huffing out soft noises as the young man combed his long fingers through her fur.

Gavin figured that he should probably be insulted, that even post coitus, someone would rather cuddle with Cashew than with him.

 _His_ name was August.

Gavin thought, sort of secretly, that it was a beautiful name. You had to kind of slowly roll it off the tongue. And it felt a little like summer as he crawled back into bed; warm and lazy and stretching out.

The room was dim except for the occasional passing light, filtering in from traffic on the street. And the fluorescents made his form waver, almost like a mirage.

For a moment that actually seemed plausible. 

So Gavin kissed him, just a soft press of lips, just between his eyes, just to be sure.

August blinked back at him, sleepy and amused. "Hi," he said.

And Gavin felt himself smiling stupidly. “Hello darling.”

He screwed up his face at the endearment and Gavin leaned close to kiss him properly. The logistics of it are tricky at that angle, bumping noses and an awkward off center landing. But they have to slow down. Gavin is ok with that.

He scooped up Cashew and put her on the floor. She looked indignant, if that was a thing that guinea pigs could be.

“But she’ll-”

“She’ll be fine,” said Gavin.

They’d been doing this a while now. Well, nine months or so. But Gavin was a creature of constant change: phones, apartments, cars, computers, IP addresses, ect. So it’s a long time for him. And it’s the first time in a while that he is really happy. 

Gavin rolled on top of him, getting a knee between his thighs, and bending down to kiss him again.

“You are such a bad idea,” he sighed.

“Oh, is that so?”

“Definitely.” And he veered away, mouthing over the lines of August’s jaw and shoulder, to that place at the base of his throat. “You're just so... nice. And normal,” he said ruefully.

August scoffed at that.

And Gavin caught one nipple between his teeth, pulling a gasp from him. Then the other and August bucked up against him.

“Normal... nice things, they don’t really happen to me.”

“Gavin, don’t.”

“But--”

“No.” August threaded his fingers through his hair, tugging gently, just enough to make Gavin look him in the eye. “What’s gotten into you?”

God, he had nice eyes.

“Nothing.”

“Gavin--”

“I’m fine,” he said. 

Gavin kissed him again; his wet mouth, the rise of his chest and the flat of his stomach, down over the front of his tatty cotton boxers. And August laughed and sighed and dug in his heels, tilting up so Gavin could slip them off.

And Gavin had always been so obstinate.

An antagonist his whole damned life.

But in that moment he imagined being happy to submit. It was a relief when August’s fingers were in his hair again, curling around the back of his neck. In that moment he would have done about anything that August asked of him. God, he’d do it happily if it would just keep him looking at him that way.

He brushed his lips against the head of his cock and August lifted his hips a little to meet him. But August wasn't asking for that much. Gavin didn't think he ever would. And Gavin, well he was still himself. He was still a contrarian and a tease. And he  nuzzled in, the rough of his stubble against the soft inside of August's thigh. And he baited him, with just the sloppy wet open press of his mouth until Augusts hands were tightening in his hair. 

He whined. “Gavin, please...”

And there was something in it, the sound of his own name said so desperately. It set off something warm and bright unfurling in the pit of his stomach. And-- and suddenly, August shoved at his shoulders. 

“Gavin, stop. Stopstopstop!”

There was a laugh, a loud grotesque kind of bark.

“Fuck.”

And Carter leaned heavy and foreboding in the doorway. “Oh, don’t stop. Not on my account. I can wait.”

August’s phone was on the nightstand and he scrambled to grab it. But Carter had his gun un-holstered before he was even half way there.

He leveled the muzzle at them. “I wouldn't do that.”

Gavin snatched August back, pulling him close and covering him as much as he could. “What do you want?”

 

* * *

 

Gavin had been through a lot of handlers, which was to say that Gavin was a pain in the ass and so they were frequently rotated out. But Agent Carter, he was near the worst and he's stayed on Gavin the longest. In 18 months Gavin had learned two things about the man; he was a luddite and he was a son of a bitch who seemed to take a special sort of pleasure in making Gavin’s life hard.

He insisted on weekly meetings in person, daily check-ins via email, plus assignment briefings. And he used a lot of paper; files, and records and memos and so on. He liked to keep Gavin on a short leash, too. When Carter started tracking his spending and where he went in his spare time, Gavin hacked his gmail and flooded it with gay porn.

That was the first time Carter knocked the shit out of him.

And after that, he cut off all email communication. Started calling him all damned day and having his assignments couriered over. Which meant more fucking paper. But he saw Carter a little less. So it was kind of ok.

The first time Gavin opened his door to find that lanky kid, with his courier bag and his bicycle, standing on the other side, he’d tried to talk to him. Because he knew it was what he was supposed to do, out of politeness, or whatever. But the kid, he didn’t so much as take off his headphones. Just shoved his clipboard at Gavin to sign then thrust a crumpled manila envelope into his hands. When Gavin said “thank you” he’d hiked his bag a little higher on his shoulder and walked away.

God damn millennials. And it was just so annoying. Because the kid was the first civilian person he’d talked to in months.

And he’d tried.

And so it went on like that.

Gavin talked. And the kid would ignore him. He was the only real human he saw regularly and Gavin didn’t even know his name.

One day it was raining and he left tracks on the hall carpeting. Gavin didn’t bother to mention it.

The next package came in the middle of the night. And Gavin stumbled out in his overpriced pajamas to find the kid, a mess of blood and bruises, pounding on his front door. He didn’t have his bike.

“Package,” he’d said, fumbling for his stupid clipboard, and nearly collapsed, falling heavy against Gavin’s chest.

He’d panicked immediately, hauled the kid up and started snapping his fingers in his face ‘cause Gavin thought he’d seen someone do it on TV once

“Hey! Hey, wake up. What’s your name. Um, do you know where you are, who the president is? Your name? What the hell happened?”

He blinked up at Gavin through the blood running into this eyes. “An SUV clipped me. But I’m fine.”

“No, you really aren’t.”

He was all blood and scrapes down one side. Dirt and gravel stuck to his skin and hair.

“Don’t call an ambulance. I can’t afford it.”

“Then come inside, we can clean you up and--”

“No.”

Gavin steered him through his door anyway.

That made him Gavin’s first house guest who was not a government agent.

“I... wait. No.” The kid twisted away. “Whoever sends you all those package. The order always comes with instruction not to talk to you. And they pay extra to do it. I can’t.”

“Well, I won’t tell if you won’t.”

He looked so nervous, but finally conceded.

Gavin hobbled him down the hall and propped the kid in his shower. He’d skinned his palms in the fall and needed help getting out of his scabbed on cloths.

After the dirt and blood were rinsed away Gavin tried to patch the kid up, though his first aid skills proved to be seriously lacking. The kid was reluctant to take his clothes, but they were better than the blood soaked alternative. While they waited for a cab to come collect him, Gavin deposited him on the sofa and poured them both large glasses of wine.

The strangeness of it crept up on them then. And they fell into a deep awkward silence.

“August,” he announced suddenly.

“What?”

“You asked me my name. It’s August”

Gavin took a long pull of his drink.

“Are you, like, a day trader or something,” he asked, tipping his chin to Gavin’s wall of dead eyed screens.

Gavin laughed. “No. Not really.”

“And... um, you have a rat? That’s cool.”

“She’s a guinea pig.”

And that was how they met.

 

* * *

 

“First things first,” Carter chided. “Introductions!”

He kept his gun trained on them. And Gavin could feel August shaking finely.

“I mean really,” Carter pouted, “How could you get a new pet and not bother telling me? That’s not very nice.”

“You know him?” August hissed.

“Oh yes, Gavin and I go way back.”

“Don’t!” Gavin snapped.

Carter cocked his head to the side. “So what’s your name, sweetheart?”

“No.” Gavin scrambled out of bed, putting himself between August and Carter’s gun. “Don’t talk to him. Don’t look at him. Whatever you want now, I’ll do it. Just--”

“Wow.” Carter laughed, “If I’d known it would make you obedient, I would have gotten you a fuck toy a long time ago.”

“I said--!”

“Fine. Whatever.” Carter finally, mercifully, holstered his gun. “We need to talk. I’ve got work for you.”

August clutched at him, nails biting into his shoulders. “Gavin--?” 

“It’ll be ok,” he whispered. “I want to explain. But I need to take care of this first.”

But when he pulled away August wouldn't let go, clung to him like he might drown. “What is he talking about?”

“See what you’ve done,” Carter said. “You got him all worked up and now you’re putting him away wet. That’s not fair.”

“Shut up!” Gavin snapped.

“The polite thing would be to finish him off.”

Gavin yanked a blanket up around him and smoothed down August’s hair. “Lock the door behind us,” he said, "Everything is going to be alright."

“Oh come on,” Carter whined. “At the very least give him something to tide him over.”

Gavin rolled his eyes and went to the dresser, pulled out a clean pair of pajama pants and tried to look aloof.  

It was hard to do when someone you hated had just watched you suck cock.

“Kiss him.” Carter said it in the same flat tone he used to deal out all of his orders.

“Fuck no. And fuck you.”

He reached down for a t-shirt and Carter caught him by the back of the neck, tossing Gavin back into bed.

“Yes,” he said flatly and put a hand back on his gun.

“I’m sorry,” Gavin whispered. A moment ago, he’d had August crying out his name. And now he flinched away when he touched his cheek.

The press of lips was short and terse and Carter threw up his arms.

“Really? Really? Is that how you kiss him? Where’s your enthusiasm?”

August pulled him back, pulled Gavin on top of him. There was a clatter of teeth and a surprised sound that could have come from any of them. Gavin wasn’t really sure. The only things in focus were the wet on August’s cheeks and the way his chest heaved like there was something caught in his throat. After what seemed like an impossibly long time they came up for air.

August was blinking back tears but he was still holding Gavin close.

“Now that’s what I was talking about,” Carter cheered. “You really know how to pick em’ ...”

He cradled August's face in his hands. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s ok.”

“It’s not.” Gavin kissed him in earnest now, soft, on the cheek. "Lock the door. Wait for me." And Carter caught him under the arm, hauling him out of the room.

 

* * *

 

A week after his accident, August was at Gavin’s door again.

“You bought me a new bike,” he said, and customarily shoved his clipboard into Gavin’s hands.

The split in his lip was still healing, the bruises seemed to be going away, and there was a new bike parked beside him. It was bright blue and had a helmet hanging from the handle bars.

Ironically, Gavin had never been much of a liar.

“What?” he asked, just a little too loudly.

“You bought me a new bike,” he said again, bouncing excitedly on his heels. “I don’t know how. But it was delivered to my apartment. And I want to thank you. Take you to dinner. Something.”

Even if he could have accepted, Gavin wouldn't have known what to do with himself. He didn’t go places because he knew he was being watched. He didn’t talk to people because he knew that nothing was private. So he saw no point. He jotted down his signature and passed the clipboard back to him.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Gavin insisted.

“What about a drink?”

He was taller than Gavin by an inch or so. And when he took a shuffling step forward he seemed towering. Gavin took a step back and felt the edge of the door frame against his back.

“I can’t.”

August leaned in, conspiratorially. “Why?”

“Why are you so... interested!” Gavin snapped.

And August took a breath, and he brushed Gavin’s hair away from his face. “You’re cute. And weird,” he said. “And you did something really nice for me. And I want to know you.”

Gavin was, for a rare moment in his life, speechless. It had been so long since anyone touched him, let alone to do something so soft and sweet and he dumbly surged forward.

“That’s not an answer.” August held him back, with a coy little smile and hand on the center of his chest.

“I should warn you,” Gavin sighed. “I’m terrible at this”

“So that’s a yes, then?”

“I... I don’t like bars. They’re always crowded. And loud.”

“Alright.”

“Alright,” Gavin nodded. “So, um, did you have a package for me or...?”

August rubbed the back of his neck, looking at least as embarrassed as Gavin felt. “No, actually.”

Gavin smacked his head on the door frame in his sudden sudden laughter. And August gathered him close, and kissed him softly.

 

* * *

 

For no reason in particular, Carter gave Gavin the beating of a lifetime.

And Gavin thought about that first kiss, the involuntary noise he’d made, the sweet way August had slipped his fingers through his hair to check the knot on the back of his head.

“I don’t want to see that thing around here again,” said Carter. “If I do it’ll be his ass, not yours. Do you understand?”

Gavin pushed himself up on his elbows. His bloody nose dripped on the white carpet. He’d have to throw it out. “Yes, Mother.”

Carter stomped him back down, smacked a file labeled GOODWIN, LUCAS on the coffee table and left.

It took an effort, and a few long struggling moments, to get himself up off the floor. A little longer still to haul himself down the hall. His hands were shaking. It took him two tries to punch the ten digit code into the keyless deadbolt. 

Gavin found him huddled in the corner, wedged between the nightstand and the wall, looking so fucking young.

“I... it was loud,” he sniffed. “She-- ah, Cahsew --she went under the bed. I couldn't’ get her.”

“It’s fine." Gavin reached for him, put his hands on August's shaking shoulders. "Are you ok?”

There was a sudden flash of anger in his eyes-- “No.”  --and August shoved him away.

“I am so sorry.”

 “What the fuck just happened?”

 

* * *

 

August was from Queens. And he was 26. And he had moved to D.C. for grad school. He was working on an MFA in creative writing at UMD. He’d been working as a bike messenger since he was a teenager. It had given him long lean limbs, that sometimes make Gavin even more conscious of his soft at the edges too-many-hours-in-front-of-the-computer frame. August liked reality shows about animals and ghosts. He had three sisters. His taste in wine, beer, and music was terrible. He liked live bands and poetry readings and playing pool in bars with bad lighting. But he would graciously stay in with take out and a movie if Gavin asked him too. He slept on his right side, with Gavin pressed up against his back, if he could help it. For their first date August took him to the library of congress because it was quiet and they had an exhibit about Alan Turing.

And Gavin, he hated-- hates --lying to him.

According to his cover, Gavin was a software engineer. He did contract work. Mostly education and accessibility applications, which wasn’t actually part of his cover. Gavin had added it, after the fact, because it made the narrative almost noble and at the very least bearable.

They had had plans to go out that night.

But Gavin had reneged.

He had had “work” to do. So August had come over with a pizza. And he’d worked on a paper while Gavin hacked the servers of a revenge porn site.It had felt almost normal. God, practically domestic.

If he hadn't canceled, none of this would have happened. None of this would have ever happened.

 

* * *

 

 

Gavin showered, patched himself up, and by the time he’s done the coffee maker is going. August is crosslegged on his living room floor. The file that Carter had left is splayed out around him. Cashew, who'd finally emerged from under the bed, is toddling around among the the stacks. 

“What’s your real name?” August asked, not looking up from the file.

“You shouldn’t look at that,” Gavin said. Though he knew it was falling on deaf ears. “It could be dangerous. You already know too much.”

August gave him a sad smile-- “Yesterday I would have thought you were crazy for saying something like that.” -- and went back to scanning through Goodwin, Lucas’s phone records.

It brought that unhinged feeling rushing back. And Gavin crumpled underneath it, dropping down beside him.

“I keep trying to work myself up to being mad at you for lying. But looking at all of this... I mean, if you’d outright told me you were a government spy--”

Gavin pressed his forehead to August’s shoulder, breathing deep to keep himself steady. “It’s not quite that glamorous.”

“Operative, then? Agent? Special Agent? I actually like the way that one sounds--”

“Look,” He curled his fingers under August’s chin. “I’ve got about two dozen criminal charges to my name, one of them being acts of treason against the United States of America. Do you understand? You need to forget all of this, forget me.”

“What?”

“You should probably leave. Get out of the district, maybe for a while.”

August shrugged him off. “You really think I’m just gonna walk away? From you? From my life?”

Gavin had never heard him raise his voice before.

“I could set you up,” he said. “New ID, money, place to live. A job if you wanted. Just for a year or so.”

“A year!”

They’d never so much as bickered over where to go for dinner, let alone fight.

“I know. I’ve ruined everything for you. But whatever it takes to keep you safe--”

But now August’s eyes narrowed and went dark and his mouth set in a hard line.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“August--"

“What’s your real name?” he snapped.

“Orsay.”

”Your first name?”

“Gavin,” he sighed. “It’s still Gavin,”

August let the stack of papers fall from his fingers. “Well Gavin Orsay, what are you going to do to this guy? Hack his facebook and leave an embarrassing status, or..?”

“August, please.”

“No.” He leaned close, kissed Gavin hard and fast. “I’m not leaving you. And I’m not afraid. Well, I am but--”

You should be, Gavin though. But couldn’t bring himself to say it. Just kissed him back.

 

* * *

 

Eventually, he coaxes August away from the files.

“Tell me other things about you?” he asks.

“Like what?”

They’re both too wired for sleep, but they go to bed anyway. Gavin changes the sheets first. August puts Cashew in her cage for the night.

He shrugged. “Anything that I don’t know.

“I... I’m from Louisiana.” 

August cocked an eyebrow at him. "You don't have an accent."

He cleared his throat. "Well there's reason for that," he said, slipping in the slow drawl with ease. "My first semester at college, 'nother classmate called me a hick. By the next fall I'd dropped it."

August worked up a smile. “Parents?”

“My mother's name was Margaret."

“Was?” 

Gavin shrugged. "Is."  

But he hadn’t seen his mother in over a decade. Not in person, anyway. But he checked in on her from time to time. A few years back, she’d moved to Florida, to an assisted living complex for “active seniors”. She had a pinterest with lots of knitting patterns and cookie recipes. And every year, on her birthday, he sent her $25,000. She’d worked two or three jobs at a time through his childhood so he could have everything, so he could be successful. And, well, it was the least he could do.

August took his hand and pulled him into bed. It felt tainted now, not safe or private the way a bed should be. 

“Father?”

August turned onto his side.

And Gavin curled around him, pressing up against his back

“Never met him.”

If he had, he couldn't remember. He’d been pretty young when his father left. And Gavin had searched for him. But it never turned up anything; no credit cards, property records, nothing. Not so much as a fucking facebook page. Sometimes that left him wondering what kind of man had his father been, that there was no trace of him. It sometimes made Gavin wondered if his proclivities for this life ran in the family.

August is tense under his hands, fidgeting with the sheets and pillows for a while before finally turning in Gavin’s arms so that they’re nose to nose.

“Keep going,” August said sternly. But a soft smile betrayed him. He pressed a quick kiss to his lips.

Gavin had been lying so long, he wasn't sure he even remembered how to tell the truth. “Um... I got accepted to MIT when I was fourteen.”

He’d got in with a full ride. And Gavin suddenly remembered the way his mother had cried when they got the letter in the mail. He was the first person from his family to ever go to college.

August mock gasped. “You were one of those prodigy children?”

“Something like that.”

“But then you gave it all up for a life of crime?”

Gavin rolled his eyes.

He wanted-- he’d always wanted --just to do good. Maybe it was because he’d read too many superhero comic books. He’d been so young. And people had had such high hopes. And he’d wanted to live up to that. And he’d had-- did have --all these ideals.

But he just didn’t know how it ended up like this, how he got to this place, at gunpoint, in the middle of the night with this man, this man shivering in his arms.

“It’s only criminal because the government declared that it was criminal.”

August pushed his hair away from his face, trailed his fingers down his cheek. And Gavin pushed into his palm, feeling pathetic and needy.

“I’ve read about people like... people who do what you do,” said August. “But I had no idea.”

He shrugged. And August touched the bruise at the corner of his mouth. "And that guy, he's like, your handler?"

"More like my keeper, parole officer."

"Well he's an asshole."

And somehow, he found it in him to laugh. "Yes, but without him I never would have met you."

 

* * *

 

In the morning August kissed him awake, pressed Gavin onto his back, broad palm spread across his chest. And it was rough and insistent and slow. And the sun was just coming up. And it was such a relief.  

After, and after again, they finally dragged themselves out of bed. They showered. They ate fruit loops like nothing has happened. When August had to leave for class they kissed goodbye in the hallway like nothing has changed.

“I won’t be able to talk to you for a few days,” Gavin said. “I’ve got a plan. And I’ll call you with instructions when it’s time.”

“Alright.”

“Until then, just go about your business like normal.”

August was caught some place between fear and giddy excitement; a kid playing at espionage. He nodded, emphatically. “OK. Yeah, of course.”

“And if, when the time comes, you decide you don’t really want to do this... I wouldn’t blame you if you walked away.”

“Shut up.” August kissed him, quick and biting. “I love you. I’ll talk to you in a few days.”

Gavin nodded “A few days.”

August disappeared down the hall and Gavin closed the door behind him, locked it, did up the dead bolt. And for a moment it was too much. He wanted to crumple up beneath it. He wanted to cry. But there was too much to do.

 

* * *

 

It took five days. And it was kind of a shitty plan.

It was risky. And no one had ever done anything on this scale, especially not alone. A million things could and probably would go wrong. And he didn’t sleep because he had to triple and quadruple check all the code. And really, it was a terrible fucking plan

Gavin texted him a time and location to meet.

 

* * *

 

They met at coffee shop a few blocks from August’s apartment.

Gavin got there a little early. The place was crowded and loud and set his teeth on edge. 

August dropped into the chair across from him. “Babe, you look like hell,” 

He slid the package and the burner phone to him across the table. “I need you to make a delivery for me.”

August picked at the edge of the envelope and Gavin covered his hand with his own.

“You need to follow my instructions exactly, ok?”

August nodded. And Gavin laid it all out.

He would go straight to the drop off location.

He would give the package to the man in the photo gallery on the phone.

He would not wait around. He would not speak to him. He would not tell the man his name or who the package was from.

He would leave immediately after the transaction was made.

He would hold onto the phone. And he would wait for Gavin to call. They wouldn’t be able to see one another for a while. It could take weeks. Or months. He’d have to be patient. And he shouldn’t worry. This was going to work. It was going to be fine.

“This is nicer than my phone,” August said, with a wry grin. “Can I use it to download music? Play angry birds?”

“August--”

“I know, I know...” he laughed and threaded his fingers through Gavin’s. “You just look so serious. And sad. I don’t want that to be the last image I have of you.”

Gavin tried to smile.

“How much time do we have.”

“Ten minutes. It’s a fifteen minute ride from here so--”

He stood suddenly, shoved the package and his cell phone into his messenger bag. “Come on,” he said, and took Gavin by the wrist, pulled him up and out of his chair.

No one noticed them, hand in hand, filing into the mens bathroom. August locked the door behind them

“What are you--?”

He backed Gavin up against a graffiti covered wall.

“We aren’t going to see one another for a while,” August said and dropped his knees, smoothing his hands over Gavin’s thighs and reaching for his belt.

 

* * *

 

Exactly twelve minutes later they stumbled back out onto the street.

Gavin felt lightheaded. “You’re... we shouldn’t have." 

August had his bike chained beneath a street light. A string of cars passed. And he got that wavering look again. Gavin took a deep breath.

"You can’t be late,” he said.

“I know this place,” he said, looking at the address again. “It’s mostly down hill. I’ll make it with time to spare.”

“I love you,” Gavin said. “Be safe. Stick to the plan. I’ll talk to you soon.”

And August paused, for an infuriatingly long moment. He had to go. If this was going to work he had to be on time. “What?” he said, sounding almost surprised.

Gavin shoved his hands in his pockets. “You know you can still walk away from this, right?”

“Gavin--”

“And for the love of god, wear your fucking helmet.”

August huffed out a laugh. “I love you too.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> LMAO, this happened 
> 
> thanks to anon who passed it along
> 
> http://www.vulture.com/2015/02/house-of-cards-fan-fiction-meechum.html


End file.
